


in somnis veritas

by honeyvoiced



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones, Dream Sex, F/F, F/M, Hate Sex, Non-Canon Sexuality, Threesome - F/M/M, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: In which Fallon Carrington finds clarity in what is usually a confusing dream (repost)
Relationships: Fallon Carrington/Michael Culhane/Liam Ridley
Kudos: 14





	in somnis veritas

**Author's Note:**

> For a requester who preferred to remain anonymous. Reposted from my defunct request-filling account.

This _had_ to be a dream.

As soon as the thought appeared in Fallon’s mind - a simple solution to the confusion at hand, her waking mind scrambling for purchase against the rocky walls of her subconscious - she tried to quash it away. Distract herself. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to scare herself into ending it too quickly.

She was absolutely _delirious_ , and she hated to even picture the word in her mind as the thought came to her, but there was no other way to describe it. A slow, delicious ache had started between her legs and clawed its way up, pushing against the inside of her stomach and making her squirm on the spot, too overwhelmed with sensation to stand still. 

Forgetting her plan to stay asleep, she reminded herself (again) that she was _definitely_ dreaming - she hadn’t felt like this _awake_ in… well, she never had, if she was being totally honest with herself. She’d have to remember to mention this little… scene to Michael when she woke up. But that didn’t need to be for awhile.

Sat before her on the bench at the end of her bed was her fiancé, one eyebrow raised up at her in intrigue, a tiny, amused smirk plastered on his lips. She wanted to kiss it off of his face, but instead she stood still before him, dropping one end of the blindfold in her hand so it hung limp at her side. 

His eyes dropped to it, and then he looked back up at her face again, shifting a little in his spot. He hadn’t moved his arms from behind his back, so she had to assume that they were cuffed there. His chest muscles looked even more prominent than she remembered, and she remembered them as _very_ impressive to begin with.

“What’re you going to do with that?” He nodded to the cloth in her hand, and she automatically rolled the soft, silky material between her fingers. 

“Am I supposed to blindfold you with this?” She lifted it to her vision thoughtfully, turning it over in both hands before looking at his face again.

“You tell me, you’re the one calling the shots.”

“Am I, now?” Fallon crossed her arms and felt the squeak of the material of her outfit under her arms, almost as if it were real. It was almost constricting. She felt as if she was going to climax any second from the friction alone, with no hands involved at all. The moment the idea came to her, she was naked. 

“Interesting development. Maybe you aren't,” Michael commented. His eyes raked over her slowly, and she dropped her arms from her chest almost defiantly. Staring him down, she took a step forward and nudged his knee aside with her own to stand between his legs. 

“Do you _feel_ in control, Fallon?”

She reached out to touch him - to figure out exactly what it was she was trying to feel. 

“I feel relaxed.” She said the words as soon as they came to her, and she was startled by how honest they were. She touched his chest, then slid her hand up to his shoulder, feeling heat under her fingers. The last time she’d touched him - back in the waking world - he had been cold. Her wing of the manor wasn’t particularly well-heated, which she insisted made it easier to sleep, and he was always _so_ good not to complain too often. 

Just as she began to remind herself that the ‘man’ in front of her was _really_ a figment of her own imagination, and that the _real_ Michael was probably fast asleep beside her in their shared bed, the Michael in front of her surged forward, kissing her chest, working his way down past her breasts toward her stomach. 

“Ah,” she gripped his shoulder, tilting her head back and closing her eyes for a moment despite her almost-protest. “Culhane -”

“You don’t _seem_ very relaxed,” he observed, tilting his head back to look up at her. She felt his stubble scrape against her skin, so real that she felt awake for a moment, but the usual itch was replaced with a pleasant tickle, and her fingers immediately found the back of his head to keep him in place. 

“ _Content_ is the word I should have used,” she admitted through a sigh, letting her head fall back happily and feeling her hair spill down her shoulders. 

“ _Content_ sounds a little… boring, don’t you think?” Michael mumbled against her skin, his lips brushing over her ribcage before he sat back enough to see her properly. 

She glanced down at him and felt the smile leave her face, reaching out with her free hand and dropping the blindfold beside him as she cupped the side of his face. _That_ was what this was. Another thinly-veiled attempted ambush by her unconscious thought. The rolling ache between her legs was long gone now, and she felt suddenly overcome with that specific brand of anger that only ever seemed to appear in her dreams. 

She looked him in his stupid, soft, understanding face and was overwhelmed by the white-hot reflex to slap him, or scream at him - he’d done nothing wrong, but her frustration had morphed into monstrous anger in the way that she never was capable of while she was awake. 

“Are you going to fuck me or not? That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” She snapped. “Because it certainly couldn’t be for your shitty advice.”

“That’s more on your schedule - this is _your_ dream.” Michael didn’t seem even slightly bothered by her venomous tone. Shifting in his seat again, he raised an eyebrow at her. “Unless you wanted me all tied up just to yell at me. Whatever’s more therapeutic, I guess.”

Fallon regarded him thoughtfully, feeling herself calm down a little again. He was shiny, now - she wasn’t sure when that happened, or what he could have possibly been doing to work up such a sweat so quickly, but she licked her lips and rubbed a hand over his chest slowly.

“I want you on the bed.”

And then, he was. 

Wandering around the side towards him, she looked down at him and chuckled. 

“Nice pants.”

Plucking at the material - some semi-leather blend that he somehow didn’t look entirely ridiculous in - she gave him a full once-over.

“You’re not tied up anymore.”

“No,” he mused, propping himself up on his elbows and looking up at her. “I guess you changed your mind.”

“And what is _that_ supposed to be symbolic of? I don’t want to keep you tied down anymore?” Fallon rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest - no longer bare, she realized.

“Or maybe you just wanted me to touch you.” Michael sat up and reached for her slowly, one large hand wrapping around her ribcage to her back and tugging her a few steps closer to him. 

She let herself be pulled softly closer, straddling one of his thighs and kissing him again. She felt almost apologetic as she did, the guilt of yelling at him seeping in - which didn’t usually happen until the morning after a dream of that caliber. Was she awake or not? 

“I don’t - want that.” She reached behind herself as she broke the kiss and pried his fingers away from her skin, whining loudly when it took a moment for him to let go of her. Wrestling his insistent hands away and shoving his chest surprisingly roughly, she planted one hand on his stomach to hold him still and desperately tried to re-stir her excitement from earlier by bunching her already-mussed skirt up even further and sliding one hand into her underwear. 

Michael reached for her wrist but she gripped his hand with her free one, pushing it down to the mattress instead and shaking her head.

“ _No,_ ” she hissed, “You just _watch_ . You’re obviously not going to do your _job_ so I’ll do it.”

“You’re _really_ leaning hard into this whole being-in-control thing, aren’t you?” Michael’s voice distracted her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to maintain some sort of concentration without waking herself up. “Is that all that this is about? Control?”

“You tell me,” she groaned quietly, hating herself for letting him get under her skin. She opened her eyes, momentarily giving up on chasing her own orgasm and levelled her gaze with him. “You’re supposed to be my half-naked shoulder-angel, aren’t you? Though I suppose that would require a devil counterpart.”

The gasp that was ripped out of her was choked off by a warm hand wrapping itself around her neck from behind. It tightened and pulled back, leaving her with no option but to lean back to relieve the pressure, colliding into the solid form of a second body behind her. 

“Shh, shh.” Liam’s voice was _so_ soft in her ear, surprising her enough to stop trying to twist out of his grip so insistently for a moment. “You’re going to wake yourself up.”

His grip around her throat loosened and Fallon noticed for the first time that not being able to breathe didn’t seem to have any real effect on her. _Right_ \- dreaming. Both of Liam’s hands dropped to her waist, instead, holding her firmly against his torso as Michael propped himself up on his elbows again.

“What is _he_ doing here?” His tone was accusatory for the first time in the dream, and Fallon narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly fueled. 

“Why, I’m making this more fun for her,” Liam’s tone was light, nearly playful, but with a hint of sincere mockery to it that Fallon wasn’t sure she’d ever heard before. “Aren’t I?” 

He was asking her, now, and she could feel his lips brush the shell of her ear as he turned his attention to her instead. She turned a little, trying to look back at him, but felt suddenly sluggish - her head felt impossibly heavy, like she was pushing it against something solid that she couldn’t see, and she let out a tiny huff of frustration before giving up.

Liam tsked softly at her, making a small, ingenuine noise of sympathy in the back of his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he hummed, though his tone told her that he wasn’t. “You have to look at him.” 

She did, reaching out and planting one hand on Michael’s chest as she ground against his thigh slowly. 

Liam’s hands gripping her waist suddenly tightened, pushing her downward ever so slightly and wringing another gasp out of her as the pressure between her legs increased. Sliding her back closer to him, he let go of her with one hand and instead trailed his fingers over Michael’s thigh, where she’d just been, and made a small thoughtful sound. 

“You’re making a mess,” he told her, and even Michael’s hands gripped the sheets a little tighter when Liam deliberately trailed his fingers up the inside of his thigh as he pulled his hand back. 

She could finally see him when he leaned over past her shoulder and popped his fingers between his lips. His profile was sharper than she remembered; all the softness that she usually admired was gone. Turning to her, so close to her face, he winked, removing his fingers from his mouth and dropping his hand back to her waist. 

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” he insisted. His fingers on her waist were soft, but she felt like she couldn’t move. She felt frozen; suddenly unsure, but then his voice was in her ear again, sending shivers down the side of her neck. “Why don’t you get on top of him?”

It was like he’d put some kind of hex on her, because she immediately lurched upward, pushing herself off of Michael’s leg and beginning to work at undoing his pants. Her hands were clumsy, and numb, but they made do - he was freed shortly after. She wasted no time in climbing onto him, using one hand to guide him into her and sighing almost comfortably at the familiarity of the sensation. 

Liam was suddenly gone, but it didn’t matter - her mind was immediately taken over by the sensation of Michael grabbing her by the hips and working with her rhythm. _This_ was a much more coherent, mid-week late night dream. She rocked herself against him with abandon, tilting her head back and closing her eyes - any usual waking-world concerns about her appearance or the noises she couldn’t hold back were a non-issue here. 

“Now, here’s a question.” Liam’s voice caused her eyes to snap back open and search for the source. Propped up on his side, resting one elbow under his cheek, Liam was sprawled comfortably out next to Michael, tapping one finger against his chin in thought. “Why _did_ you untie him?” 

“Hey, man,” Michael all but hissed, his mouth tight as he lifted his head for a moment and then let it drop back to the pillow. “Why don’t you just mind your goddamn business?”

“Yeah,” Fallon breathed, letting her eyes close again as she focused on the white light at the end of the tunnel. Her stomach felt pleasantly tight, tingling drifting all over her spreading out from the inside of her thighs to almost every inch of her body. “You’re really not helping my focus, here.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the double-meaning, and slowed her bouncing to a stop. Liam grinned wickedly up at her.

“Is that what’s going on?” 

“This is the worst sex dream I’ve ever had,” Fallon mused, out loud. 

“I can make it better,” Michael assured her, reaching over and pushing Liam’s face in an attempt to run him off of the bed. Liam grabbed his wrist surprisingly roughly, fiddling with his hand for a moment and then sucking two of his fingers into his mouth.

Fallon couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene until Michael groaned lowly under her and she looked at him instead, her eyebrows raising curiously. 

She resumed her rocking, pressing both of her hands down against Michael’s chest to both keep him still and to give herself more momentum. He grew tense under her, grabbing her hip with his free hand, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to ignore what was going on beside her.

Not looking didn’t help her with not _hearing_ , though. Michael’s breathing growing heavier - if she weren’t on a mission, as it were, she’d have had time to be more offended that she knew it wasn’t her own doing - paired with the low, mocking chuckle that she knew had to be coming from Liam was putting all sorts of images in her mind that she had to assume were worse than the reality of the situation.

“This is all for you, you know.” 

Fallon felt Michael’s other hand raise to her other hip, and it was suddenly joined by another - Liam’s - his fingers stepping down her thigh and squeezing gently at her bent knee. Her eyes snapped open with a gasp, one hand jolting from Michael’s torso to slap the offending digits away. She’d expected it to tickle; expected the maddening physical embodiment of panic from the waking world, and reflexively tried to squirm in escape, but realized in the same moment that it was a far different sensation that shot through her.

“You’re not paying attention,” Liam pointed out, drawing his hand back as quickly as she’d slapped it away. 

Liam sat upright, straddling one of Michael’s legs as he slid behind Fallon. His hands ghosted up her ribs and cupped both of her breasts with such suddenness and confidence that she startled, tensing up all over and causing Michael to let out an appreciative groan underneath her. 

Kissing her bare shoulder, once, Fallon felt one of Liam’s hands leave her as he moved to slide it up her back and into her hair instead. He pushed a little of it aside to kiss her neck, and then suddenly gripped it much more roughly. Giving her hair what almost felt like a warning tug and then sternly tilting her head to the side, he mouthed a path up the rest of her neck towards her ear.

“I think I told you not to stop on my account.”

Slowly rolling her nipple between two fingers, Liam pushed his hips against hers in encouragement, and after a moment to try to regain some of her composure, Fallon began rocking against Michael once more.

“How ya doin’ down there?” Liam lifted his head to look down at the other man over Fallon’s shoulder and she shivered at the sensation of his stubble against her skin.

“Man, would you _shut up._ ” Michael’s reply came through gritted teeth and he squeezed his eyes shut as his grip on Fallon’s hips tightened. 

“I’m close.” Fallon’s words were more for Michael’s benefit than anyone else’s, but as soon as she said them out loud, she was nearly winded by Liam pushing her. Michael slid out of her and she could feel her orgasm slipping away at the same time, whining in protest as she was effectively pinned onto the bed beside him.

Feeling almost crazed, she reached for herself frantically, but Liam grabbed her wrist, holding her back. Writhing around until she was on her back glaring up at him, she barely had time to register Michael’s sudden disappearance before reaching again with her free hand. 

“No, no,” Liam practically cooed at her, as if chiding her for something considerably more casual than trying to fuck herself back into the waking world. His hands felt so soft, and gentle, but she was still sluggishly overpowered by him. Barely choking back a sob of frustration, Fallon wrestled against him as best as she could before he pressed both of her captured hands to the bed and leaned down to kiss her.

Moaning into it, Fallon tried to arch up from the bed to deepen the kiss, her whole body pushing towards him like he was magnetic. He kept her right on the edge, pulling back to match her surging forward and teasing her by letting his teeth graze her lip when he finally broke them apart. 

“What am I _really_ doing here?” Liam asked, slowly letting go of her hands, seeming to trust her to have a little more self-control now. “Now that we’re alone, you can be honest.”

She dropped her gaze from his eyes to his lips, rolling the question around in her mind for a moment. She left her hands where he’d pressed them down on either side of her head, as if trying to subconsciously invite him to pin her again.

“I’m not even _doing_ anything to you, and you’re _loving_ this.” 

Staring up at Liam and steeling her nerves, Fallon shook her head.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head and willed the thought out of her mind as best she could. He was attractive. There was something undeniably sexy about the way he paid attention to her when he didn’t think she was looking, and he was a great kisser. She chalked it up to a run-of-the-mill crush.

The pressure vanished, the weight on her hips lifted, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Alone in her bed, she wondered for a moment if she had woken up - it felt like she had. She could feel herself breathing, and the orgasm that she’d been resting on the brink of for the entire dream was nowhere to be found, either. Still, though, her clothes hadn’t magically returned and Michael wasn’t next to her, so she figured she still had a ways to go.

Climbing down from the bed and standing up shakily, she reached for her robe and tugged it onto her shoulders, padding towards the door of her bedroom.

It was dark - she couldn’t make anything out past the hallway windows, but without any real indication of what time it was, she followed the only light that she could see any hint of. It led her to the stairs, and as she came to a stop at the top of them, she found herself overlooking the foyer, lit by only one single lamp. It was eerily quiet, and just as she became concerned that her dream was about to morph into a nightmare, Fallon heard him.

He was whistling, something casual and happy. The tune of it floated up to her from the other side of the loft catwalk, from the dining area. Making her way to the other side and peering over the banister, Fallon squinted in the semi-dark before spotting Culhane. He carried a candle, the light of it bouncing around each wall that he passed before he set it down on a side table and left it there, vanishing into the dark again. Feeling the uneasiness set in once more, Fallon tightened the robe around her and quickly headed for the stairs, the sudden urge to find him again increasing. 

It was almost impossibly dark, and she held both hands out in front of herself as she navigated the hallway until Michael appeared once more, smiling. 

She’d have been startled if she weren’t so relieved, almost collapsing against his chest as he drew closer to her.

“Hey - what’s wrong?” 

She closed her eyes and felt him smooth back her hair slowly, letting the comfortably familiar gesture calm her nerves. 

“I- I was lost,” Fallon stammered, pulling Culhane closer to her and sliding her hands up the back of his shirt, needing more contact. “It was so dark, and I couldn’t see anything, and then you -”

“Of course,” Culhane cut her off, prying her away from him gently to look at her properly. “I’m always here.”

Nodding, Fallon pressed her lips to his chest and then closed her eyes again.

“I thought you might have left, because…”

“Because of Liam?” Culhane finished for her, and she could almost hear the look on his face in his tone. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her softly, and she suddenly felt the urgency from earlier return to her in a wave of heat. Overwhelmed with affection, she pulled him to her and kissed him over and over again, harder and harder, ready to completely lose herself until he broke away.

“I was about to get a snack. I’m starving.” 

Taking her hand despite her obvious outward confusion, Michael pulled her towards the dining room and suddenly, it was day.

Sunlight shone through the windows, brightening the entire room and drawing her gaze to the colorful spread at the head of the table. Strawberries spilled out of shining silver bowls and lush-looking greens decorated the edges of each plate. A fresh pineapple sat proudly in the center, the almost neon yellow stealing her attention as she stepped closer.

“You know what they say about pineapple,” Culhane gestured to it, and Fallon reached out for a piece without a second thought. Juice dripped down her fingers and curved along her palm as she raised it to take a bite, her eyes locking on Culhane’s again as she ate it slowly. She revelled in the way that he stared at her, his eyes darkening and the carefree smile slowly fading from his lips.

She was barely finished her piece before he was kissing her again, pushing her towards the table and lifting her gently onto it. Fully enjoying the perks of being in a dream, now, Fallon felt the initial panic at possibly being caught fade into nothingness as Michael kissed a path down her throat to her chest, easing her robe open and splaying his hands over her bare torso.

He knew her body like the back of his hand. The tips of his fingers softened their pressure as they dusted over the tiny scar on the back of her ribs - a souvenir from a misadventure in horseback riding when she was younger - and then pressed into the dip beneath her shoulder blade, causing all of the tension in her posture to melt away. 

Reaching behind herself to shove away any stray dishes - or fruit - Fallon swept her arm across the table blindly and wicked something very solid onto the floor. Breaking the kiss and leaning around Michael to see what had fallen, Fallon felt her heart slam against the back of her ribs at the realization.

The Carrington Atlantic deal memo. _Right_. 

She stared at the folder angrily for a moment. It was harmless enough on its own, but it represented so much of her last year. Discomfort, being trapped, overwhelmed with guilt, and grief, and existential fear, and -

“Hey, don’t just kick stuff around, Fallon.” 

Cristal’s voice hit her ears like an airhorn. Sharp, and clear, it immediately gave way to a flooded, watery filter on everything she said next. Scrambling to tighten her robe around herself, Fallon glanced down and realized that she was fully dressed, and Michael had vanished yet again. 

Looking around for the source of the other woman’s voice, Fallon could barely concentrate on the words that faded in and out of clarity. It was wickedly frustrating; the way that she listened to everything the woman said, without remembering or processing any of it in the moment that she heard it. 

“Shut up,” she hissed, covering both of her ears and then squeezing her eyes shut. “Shut _up_!” 

“Relax, I think you were just having a dream.” Michael’s voice caused her to open her eyes again, glancing around before realizing that she was back in bed. 

Pressing a hand to her chest to calm her heart, Fallon felt the uncomfortable vinyl-like material beneath her fingers and frowned in confusion. Her eyes darting from Michael’s face down his body, landing on his pants - the same ones from earlier. 

“So…” she began, almost physically feeling the cogs in her mind turning, “I’m still having a dream?”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have been having another one,” Michael pointed out, shifting a little and then propping himself up on his elbow. “Should we pick this up where we left off?”

Fallon shook her head.

“I don’t… I don’t even want to have sex anymore.”

“Well, we both know _that_ isn’t true.” Culhane levelled his gaze on hers, a tiny smirk beginning to curl the corner of his mouth. She wanted to smack it off of him, the all-too-familiar feeling of overwhelming rage from earlier making a steady comeback. He wasn’t _wrong_ , but the idea of the effort for what would probably be her third missed attempt at finally getting off was exhausting, even just in thought.

“This is _my_ dream,” she complained out loud, gesturing at him. “Why aren’t _you_ pinning _me_ down and fucking me senseless, or whatever else I can come up with? Isn’t this whole thing supposed to be a metaphor for feeling you’re holding me back, or something?”

Michael sat up straighter.

“Is that what you want?” Her eyes dropped to his hand as he walked two fingers across the duvet, plucking up a stray sash of silk she hadn’t noticed before and giving it an experimental tug. She felt the material tighten around her wrists, and then felt something else entirely stir inside of her. She shifted her now bound-together arms reflexively, despite the surprising lack of discomfort she was feeling.

“That’s better,” Culhane hummed, reminding her that if he was all a part of her mind, there was no reason he didn’t understand what else was going on in her head, too. “Maybe this sudden interest in a loss of control is something we should talk about when you wake up. I can be very understanding.”

“Like you’ve been with Liam?” Fallon asked, squirming to sit up on her knees before trying to catch the gaze of the man in front of her. He avoided her eyes, and she knew that she’d been right all along.

“You know I’m only putting up with that for you.”

“You put up with everything, for me.” Fallon breathed. She used her thumb to twist her engagement ring around on her finger, feeling its sharp edges before brushing the pad of her thumb against the smooth surface of the feature stone. 

“You’re the one in control of this. Of us.” Culhane slowly laid back in his spot, tucking his hands behind his head and observing her. “You always have been.”

“So then what is this?” Fallon lifted her bound wrists and shook them slightly in gesture. “I’m so desperate for you to take control for once that I need you to literally tie me up?”

“Does this feel like you aren’t in control?” Culhane’s voice was surprisingly sarcastic and mocking. She couldn’t decide if the tone made her want to yell at him or climb back on top of him.

“Where’s Liam? I’m tired of this.” Fallon spat the words out to hurt him, only growing angrier when he laughed in response. 

“Ouch.”

Liam’s voice shot a sudden wicked thrill through her, and she whirled around to face him before holding her arms out in his direction. He approached the bed slowly, eyeing her up before glancing over her shoulder at Culhane.

“Even _I_ wouldn’t be that mean,” Liam told him, before brushing one hand over Fallon’s shoulder and then cupping her cheek, addressing her next. “What’s gotten into you, huh?”

“Not me, that’s for damn sure,” Culhane answered for her, and Liam chuckled when she rolled her eyes in response.

“What is this, couples’ therapy?” Liam quirked an eyebrow, then glanced at Culhane again. “Well… maybe whatever _you two_ were doing.”

He paused to take in their surroundings, then snorted once, shaking his head.

“Did you… tie her up so you could argue? Are you _that_ pathetic?”

“ _Hey,_ ” Fallon snapped, feeling suddenly defensive, but Liam continued.

“I can surmise that _I’m_ here because this is _her_ dream, and she can do whatever she can’t do in the waking world. And we’ll get to it, sweetheart.” The hand that had been cupping her cheek dropped back to her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly before Liam addressed Culhane again. “If she brought you here just to communicate better, well… that doesn’t bode well for your relationship, does it?”

The bed shifted and suddenly Culhane was pressed to Fallon’s back. Despite her annoyance and frustration, she leaned reassuringly back against his chest. 

“We’ve been together more than four years,” Culhane spoke slowly, and calmly, but Fallon could hear the anger shaking his voice. He cupped both of her shoulders and smoothed his fingers over her skin.

Liam’s eyes flickered to Fallon’s before they returned to the other man. For a moment, she felt panicked, wondering if he was about to expose her for what they’d done at their divorce party. She had to remind herself that it was a dream - without real world consequences - to keep her mind at ease.

“And that’s what every girl wants. History.”

“History is a pretty good sell when you’re terrified of letting anyone in,” Culhane argued, and Fallon felt a hot blush flood her cheeks and chest.

“ _Hey,_ ” she hissed defensively for the second time.

“This power dynamic is… weird,” Liam noted, sighing and levelling his gaze on Culhane one last time. “Alright, how should we do this? You want me to hold her down so you can… I don’t know, scream about what a man you are or complain that she always gets to make the dinner plans? Oh, I know -”

Fallon almost screamed in surprise when Liam suddenly gripped her waist, climbing onto the bed with his knees and then all but tossing her sideways onto the bed beside the two men.

She scrambled to sit up, yelping indignantly when Liam suddenly gripped the knot between her wrists and tugged them over her head.

“I’ll hold her still and you can tell her how insecure it makes you feel that she’s having a way better time now that I’m here.”

Fallon caught her breath and steadied an upside-down glare on Liam’s face.

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“I agree,” Culhane added on, though he crawled closer and swung a leg over her hips before settling his weight against his knees and pressing her further into the bed. With her legs rendered entirely useless, she felt the creeping sense of helpless vulnerability begin to set in, and squirmed experimentally.

She could hardly do more than shift her hips from side to side. Her mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Good try,” Liam hummed.

“You _really_ need to learn to shut up.” Michael addressed Liam, but focused on Fallon, his hands tracing over the tight material of her lingerie disappointedly. The shiny, strappy material wasn’t going to come off in their current entanglement without a fight, and even though she knew that her position was a precarious one, she closed her eyes and tried to will it away as she’d done earlier.

“I’d say ‘ _make me’,_ but I don’t think you’re up for it.” Liam taunted Culhane, causing his eyes to lift from Fallon’s torso to the man across from him.

“Last warning before I find something to put in that mouth of yours.” Culhane’s voice was nearly a growl, and Fallon found herself shifting her hips again impatiently at the sound of it.

“I’m terrified.”

The weight lifted off of Fallon’s hips as Michael lunged forward, nearly landing on her as he wrestled Liam off of her. Expecting a brawl, if not worse, Fallon quickly rolled aside, whirling around.

“You guys, don’t -!”

Shoving Liam into the headboard with a painful sounding _thud_ , Culhane worked the other man’s shirt open and kissed him soundly. Slack-jawed and staring in awe, Fallon sat back slowly as the scene in front of her unfolded.

They kissed like they were fighting, shoving against each other and gripping fistfuls of clothing or muscle wherever their hands landed. Undoing his pants and letting Liam kick them off messily, Culhane pulled himself up to his knees and pulled his already hard dick out from his boxers.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.”

Not even bothering to snark back at Liam this time, Michael gripped the back of his head and pulled his face closer to him. Seemingly out of quips, too, Liam wasted no time in confidently wrapping his mouth around Culhane and dipping forward until he managed to take his entire length into his mouth.

Steadying himself, Michael watched the other man for a moment before turning to Fallon.

“From here, he does look pretty. I didn’t get the appeal… couldn’t figure out why he had you all flustered, but this makes more sense, now.”

Fallon had almost forgotten she was even there, physically - or as physically as one could be in a dream - until she was spoken to.

“I, uh…” she couldn’t come up with a response - not a line of defense or even anything coherent as she watched Liam work him over. “Wait, this is _my_ dream.”

Liam pulled back and planted a hand against Culhane’s stomach to hold him off for a moment, wiping the corner of his mouth slowly with his free hand.

“Someone’s jealous.”

“If this is all about what you want, shouldn’t that mean you can watch and wait your turn?” Culhane pointed out.

“I don’t _know_ what I want!” Fallon heard how shrill her own voice sounded, but couldn’t keep her frustration under control. “ _That’s_ what this is about, clearly!”

Her words hung heavily in the air between herself and the two figments of her imagination across from her. 

“You’re really going to stay engaged to me when you don’t know?” Culhane finally asked, pulling her attention to him. “Why haven’t you even talked to me about this?”

“Because you _know_ , already. I _know_ you know.” Fallon groaned quietly and buried her face in her still-bound hands. “I _know_ that’s why you asked me to marry you so quickly.”

“I asked you to marry you because I love you. You have to know that, deep down. Right?” Culhane reached out for her, but Fallon twisted away from his hand before he could touch her.

“How could you?” She demanded. “Look at me. Look at _this._ ” 

Culhane’s eyes flicked between Fallon and Liam for a moment, before Liam spoke up.

“I have a proposal.”

Rolling his eyes, seemingly pre-annoyed, Culhane crossed his arms across his chest, but didn’t interrupt. 

“We do this, now, and if you’re still feeling confused afterwards, you have to bring that with you when you wake up.” Liam gestured between himself and Fallon, but before she could respond, Culhane spoke again.

“What are you, man, the embodiment of her libido?” He turned from Liam to Fallon. “You can’t even admit in your dream that you’re just trying to get off with him. If you’re so desperate to do this, just do it, but don’t -”

Instantly, he was gagged. Stuffed in his mouth were the panties that Fallon - with a quick glance down - realized she was no longer wearing, and as he reached up in angry protest to remove them, his wrist seemed to whip away from him, suddenly securely tied to the closest post at the foot of the bed. 

“Did I do that?” Fallon mused out loud, ignoring Culhane as he used his free hand to begin untying his opposite wrist, spitting the garment out onto the duvet.

“I did,” Liam supplied, pursing his lips and squinting in thought. “So I guess… technically you did.”

Freeing his other wrist, Culhane practically tackled Fallon. The gesture was almost playful, his annoyance clearly forgotten to make room for mock vengeance. Running his fingers appreciatively over the strappy details of her lingerie, he lowered himself down to his prize, pressing a kiss to Fallon’s stomach at the very edge seam of the top. 

Only as he flattened his tongue against her did she realize just how long it had been since they’d done this. She didn’t remember it feeling this good, either.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have his talents, but dreams had boundless opportunities for magic, allowing her to completely lose herself in sensation, throwing her head back and gasping. Feeling like she was already teetering on the edge of orgasm from a few very simple, well-placed touches between her legs, Fallon desperately begged her mind for _more_ , of _anything,_ ready to be driven completely out of her mind by overstimulation. 

And then, she had it.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Liam mumbled, causing her eyes to snap open. He was behind her head, lifting it gently and then pulling her shoulders into his lap. Her hands were suddenly free and she barely resisted the urge to bury them into Culhane’s hair. “Better?”

So different from the earlier actions of dream-Liam, he now wriggled his fingers into her hair, fingers tickling a slow path on either side of her neck to up behind her ears, making her feel like her eyes were going to roll into the back of her head.

She was almost scared to look when she felt what _had_ to have been more than two hands touching her legs, easing them apart and tracing from her ankles up to her core, stopping just before they could touch her and leaving her almost uncomfortably wet. Moaning in both pleasure and frustration, she grabbed at the remaining top piece of her lingerie and tried to rip it from herself, twisting around almost angrily and prying at the material hopelessly. 

“Now, now.” Liam took her hands, his movements soft but stern, and held them in his own. “If you want something, you ask for it. With your words.”

His tone and words were _so_ condescending, but it only seemed to increase the pressure building up in her stomach. 

“So what do we need, here?” Liam continued. “More?”

Panting from both her own physical exertion at trying to undress and Michael’s head between her legs, Fallon nodded breathlessly.

“Would you like him to fuck you?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes off of Liam’s; he watched her almost coldly, awaiting an answer. She nodded again, but he just shook his head.

“No, no. What did I just say?”

Tingling erupted across all of her exposed skin, causing her to almost jerk herself into an upright sitting position, and wrenching one of her hands from Liam’s grip to grab the back of Culhane’s head. 

“ _No.”_ Liam’s voice was considerably sterner, now, all of the gentle condescension and teasing suddenly gone. He grabbed her hand once more, wrestling both of her arms towards himself and holding onto them with an iron grasp.

“ _Yes!”_ Fallon snapped, squeezing her eyes shut and ignoring the white-hot embarrassment that hit her. _“Yes,_ I want him to fuck me. Now. _Please_.”

There was no warning, this time; no build up or sign of what was going to happen before Michael was inside of her. She felt surrounded and overwhelmed - it reminded her of dreams where she was drowning, but the feeling of her fiance filling her and pumping himself in and out of her made her feel that if she _were_ drowning, it might be worth it. At least until she was finished.

He kissed her neck and she felt unfamiliar stubble. Liam’s lips found hers as he slammed into her again, Culhane’s fingers dug into her hips as he hovered over her. Her mind couldn’t seem to make itself up - couldn’t decide between the two of them as every new sensation or thought that passed through her reorchestrated the entire scenario until she was just a moaning, gasping mess of sensation and complete abandon. In one moment, it was Michael, and in others, it was Liam. Sometimes, by a trick of her own mind and in a way that would be impossible to describe or remember in the waking world, it was both of them. 

She didn’t cum in the usual crescendo of buildup that she normally did - her orgasm hit her like a wall, abrupt and powerful, nearly bringing her to tears when it seemed to make itself comfortable and stay awhile. She wasn’t sure how long she had been climaxing for, but just as she was beginning to think she’d died and gone to heaven, it stopped.

The first thing she noticed was how cold she was. 

Fallon’s bedroom was dark, and Culhane was beside her, but no longer _in_ her, and as she turned to her fiance, she noticed the amused smirk on his face.

“I’m not still dreaming, am I?” She asked meekly. 

“Unfortunately, no,” he chuckled, dropping her gaze for a moment. “Sounded like a pretty good one.”

Blushing so fiercely that she was sure he could probably still see how red she’d turned, even in the dark, Fallon stammered through her question.

“Oh, god, I didn’t _say_ anything, did I?”

“No, no,” Culhane assured her, shaking his head. “Just… moaning a lot. I thought you were having a nightmare until you started trying to get your hands down your pants, so I figured I wouldn’t ruin it by waking you up.”

Groaning quietly, Fallon sat up with a shiver and was grateful when Culhane quickly pulled her into his side and rubbed her arm. She’d worked up a cold sweat, and he was wonderfully warm in comparison. Feeling the embarrassment fade to make room for comfortable sleepiness, Fallon closed her eyes and tucked herself in to the other man even more, before he spoke again.

“So, you gonna tell me about it?”

Despite the tiny weight of guilt that was beginning to press down on her chest, Fallon chuckled and shook her head a little.

“Let me go back to sleep. I can tell you all about it after we meet up with your mom, later. Or better yet, I can show you,” she promised.

“I like the sound of that,” Culhane decided, tightening his arms around her reassuringly and kissing her hair before settling in against his own pillow.

Once his breathing grew even and soft, Fallon wriggled free, squirming back into her own place and staring at the ceiling in contemplation. She’d talk to him about it later. She _had_ promised Liam - herself - whatever, that she would. It had been her end of the bargain, and she knew that if she started to lie to herself, it would be a downhill running slope of confusion. She would talk to him about the engagement, the divorce party, and the dream.

Though perhaps she’d leave out a few key details.


End file.
